


To Guard Your Happiness

by milktea_matin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Drabble, Early in Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milktea_matin/pseuds/milktea_matin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean spots a beautiful Christmas tree which makes him recall memories of the past and think about what they have given up for the job. But most importantly, it makes him remember that one goal he will never give up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Guard Your Happiness

Title: To Guard Your Happiness  
Author: oujo_to_endou  
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester  
Rating: PG-13 (language)  
Genre: Drabble, Holiday, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 1,824  
Summary: Dean spots a beautiful Christmas tree which makes him recall memories of the past and think about what they have given up for the job. But most importantly, it makes him remember that one goal he will never give up. A/N: I wanted to offer something Christmas-related to the fanfiction community for Supernatural! It's the first Supernatural fanfic I've ever tried writing, so do forgive me if it falls a little flat! Please enjoy.

      
  
The Winchester lifestyle was so thoroughly removed from the sphere of “normal” life that Sam and Dean had grown accustomed to ignoring any reminders of the life they could never live. Ordinary families sat down to eat dinner together, fought over whose turn it was to do dishes, what time curfew was. Hell, maybe they even sat down at the kitchen table and argued up a storm over Cluedo, calmly assembling the facts presented to them as the game unfolded. It was Nurse White with the candlestick in the conservatory. It was Colonel Yellow with the revolver in dining room. Everyone would laugh and the game would end, the tokens placed back in the box and the whole affair quickly forgotten as real life engaged their attention with more urgent matters. For Sam and Dean the rules were more complex. It was never Colonel Yellow. It was a poltergeist, or a possessed human, or a demi-god, in a multi-story apartment complex, on a dimly lit background, in the underworld. The rules of such nefarious beings complicated the lives of the Winchesters considerably. But it was not a game. It was a way of life that few in the world followed, and few in the world could understand.  
     Sam and Dean had just finished their latest (thankless) job, eliminating a particularly nasty demon that had snuck its way into a small New England town. The sun had long dropped below the horizon and a sea of stars was shining overhead when they left the scene of the battle. Dean wiped away the blood that was still flowing from a cut on his cheek as he walked down the street, leaving footprints in the freshly fallen snow. Not a single house was lit up along the street.  
     “Dean!” said Sam, running to catch up with him. Dean turned to see his brother, bent over panting to catch his breath. Sam’s breath came in white puffs in the cold air. “Why did you go on ahead? I was running after you!” he said, finally standing upright again. Dean studied his brother’s face in the light of the streetlamp overhead. No cuts or bruises, that was good, but Sam looked exhausted. Did he look thinner lately? Did he always have those dark circles under his eyes? Sam stood there waiting for an explanation as Dean pondered these questions. Again, Dean quickly wiped away the blood he felt trickling down his cheek.  
     “Wanted to check on the old girl,” said Dean, turning to and placing a hand on the roof of the Impala, parked along the side of the street. He dusted the snow off the window with his hand, “You must be cold,” he said to the car, “It’s frigging negative ten in this place. Next we should head down to sunny Florida. Hit up the beach. Chat with some fine-figured women in bikinis? Sounds like a nice time.” Sam didn’t respond but started for the passenger seat of the car, expecting to be on the road soon. But as Dean continued his monologue with the car, his eyes focused on the reflection in the window. Behind him was an enormous Christmas tree, strung with numerous strings of lights in red, yellow, green, and blue. Dean turned to look at it just as Sam plopped himself down on his seat and closed the door. “Well look at that,” said Dean to himself. Leaving Sam behind, he walked through the snow in his weathered old boots and stopped only a few feet in front of the tree. He stared up at the lonely tree, in a clearing by itself, glowing peacefully in the dark night. Sam looked through the dusted-off window to see his brother, hands thrust into his pockets, staring up at the massive tree. Sam reluctantly got out of the car and walked towards him.  
     “This is technically someone’s property. And one that hasn’t been visited by any paranormal activity,” warned Sam, “So that means we’re trespassing.”  
     “Ah, come on Sammy, just look at this thing. It begs to be admired. It’s more decked out than a show girl in Vegas.” Sam shrugged and turned to go, retracing his steps through the snow. He was slightly annoyed at this seemingly meaningless distraction. Something about it made him feel uneasy, like he was not meant to see it. “You know, Sammy…the Christmas before mom died…” Sam stopped in his tracks and stood there upon hearing Dean’s words. “We had this huge Christmas tree. Of course it was smaller than this one. Dad and I picked it out together and he lugged it into the house. It was so tall he had to trim the top of it in order to get it through the front door. It had lights like this one, and little wooden figures. And tinsel, I think.” Sam turned curiously to look at his brother. Dean stood there, illuminated by the electric glow of the lights, now looking down at the snow instead of the tree. “Of course you hadn’t been born yet…so you wouldn’t remember,” Dean said quietly, saying it more to himself rather than Sam.  
     “Did we?” asked Sam curiously. I don’t remember ever having a Christmas tree.” Dean nodded without turning to look at his brother.  
     “Yeah, since we moved around a lot after that. We never got another one. I made one out of cardboard once when we were kids. But I used all of your green paint to color it so you were pretty pissed at me, even though you were the one begging to have a tree in the first place,” he said with a slight chuckle. But it seemed forced. There was something oddly melancholy about his words. Sam looked at his brother, his figure outlined with lights, his head lowered. Lately, had he been eating right? Had he lost weight lately? He’d taken far too many beatings from demons and poltergeists. Sam moved closer until they were almost shoulder-to-shoulder and looked up at the tree. Dean was silent and the two of them stood there while the snow drifted down. “Dean?” asked Sam, venturing to break the silence. Dean did not respond for a long while.  
     “What do you want for Christmas, Sammy?” asked Dean, finally looking over at his brother. Sam was taken aback by the sudden question, and could hardly form a response. He turned slowly and looked at his brother. It had sounded as if there was a lump in his throat. Dean stood there silently awaiting a response, looking right into his brother’s eyes and Sam felt the urge to look away. A heavy weight pressed upon his chest. Were those tears forming in his eyes? Sam opened his mouth to speak, but could find no useful words to speak.  
“Nothing,” he said, “I don’t need anything…” It was that one look from his brother that always made him feel guilty, always made him feel helpless. Only to Sam could Dean ever show his worries, his fears.  
     “You used to ask for pony when you were little, from Santa,” said Dean, “A real one you could ride on.” Sam could hardly look at him. “You asked me how to spell ‘pony’”, continued Dean, chuckling to himself, “I was worried the other kids at school might make fun of you for that one.”  
     “Dean…” said Sam.  
     “But we couldn’t even get a tree for you, Sammy,” said Dean, his voice strained, “This Christmas, what can we do? It’s a little late, but I’ll find a tree. I’ll find a real big one. We’ll decorate it together. Hell, let’s go all out! We’ll vacation somewhere nice. Somewhere that’s not fucking negative ten degrees!” Dean could feel the tears starting to overflow and slide down his cheek. “Anyway, let’s go…!” said Dean abruptly, and turned to leave. Sam had to struggle to keep his own tears in check, watching his brother furiously wipe away his own as if they might hurt him. Finally Sam shakily stepped forward, and rushing through the snow, he grabbed onto Dean and embraced him, burying his head into his brother’s shoulder.  
     “Dean, I don’t need any of that…” said Sam, swallowing hard, “You can’t blame yourself for that…it’s not a big deal…” Dean was surprised to be caught in his brother’s strong embrace.  
     “Sammy, I just want the best for you…that’s all. You know that,” he responded, struggling to keep his voice steady, “It’s just, this lifestyle…” he said, looking up at the night sky, “We should take a break sometimes, you know?” Dean turned to face his brother. “Now come on…” said Dean, wiping away Sam’s tears with a gloved hand, “You’ve got to let me take care of you. It’s what I live for!” Dean wrapped his arms around him, feeling Sam trembling, “So whether you like it or not, dammit! We’ll celebrate together, somehow…” Sam stood there for a while, feeling secure, feeling safe, yet guilty. Dean took all the responsibility for Sam’s happiness upon himself, and all the blame if anything ever went wrong. He wanted to control everything, never let pain enter Sam’s life. His goals were irrational, impossible, but he would never give them up. Sam wanted so desperately to let him share the pain.     “You’re my responsibility, forever,” said Dean. Arguing seemed futile.  
     “I’m looking out for you, too Dean…” said Sam, feeling tears on his cheek.  
     “I know…which is why I can’t ever let myself get in serious trouble, you know? I don’t want to put you in danger for trying to save me. I’ve already done it before.”  
     “Dean…” said Sam. Dean only held him closer. It was useless. Completely useless trying to reason with him. Sam closed his eyes and said nothing for some time.  
     “Did I really ask for a pony…?” he asked finally. Dean gave a chuckle.  
     “Yeah. And when you didn’t get a real one, you asked for a My Little Pony.” Sam laughed suddenly, and playfully pushed Dean away.  
     “Dude, you’re lying...!” said Sam, wiping away his tears. Dean shrugged.  
     “Far from it! Now let’s get back to the car, shall we? Stay out in the cold much longer and I’ll call you Rudolph…!” he responded. Sam stood there for a moment in the snow, wondering how in the world their lives turned out like this. Why all the hellish twists and turns? But at the same time, watching his brother’s back as he made for the car, he remembered that there were always good things to hang on to.  
     “Dean…thanks,” he said, knowing his brother would not hear it, “But I’ll always be here for you, too… I can take care of you, too…because I owe you a whole hell of a lot.” Dean turned to look at him.  
     “Come on, I’m freezing my ass off out here!” Sam smiled. Their lives were not perfect, but at least they had each other to hold on to.

  


**Author's Note:**

> (Imported from my Livejournal, oujo_to_endou)


End file.
